I had to keep busy.
It wasn’t a perfect cure. Despite the fact I was feeling more positive, and for the longest period of time since being diagnosed, there were still small relapses.
* * * *
One morning, a few days later, I awoke beneath the shadow of a thunder cloud. Almost immediately the phone rang. The shrill ringing darkened my mood.
“Hey sexy. How are you this morning?”
Something about Oliver’s voice, so happy, so positive, triggered something inside me. It was something I couldn’t control; something I didn’t even try to control.
“You woke me up,” I growled.
There was a pause. “Gee, I’m sorry.” Another pause. “Is everything all right?”
I was frowning. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well…you sound upset.”
“You woke me up!” I snapped. “Sorry I’m not the life and soul of the party first thing in the morning.”
“It’s nine o’clock,” said Oliver, sounding suitably annoyed. “I thought you’d be up by now. Obviously I was mistaken.”